


Haircut

by apostapals (apostapal)



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Gender-Neutral Hawke, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 17:07:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7853746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apostapal/pseuds/apostapals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pre-romance flirting while getting a much-needed haircut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Haircut

“Your hair’s getting awfully long.” Hawke pointed out one evening, “Need a trim?”

Fenris tried in vain to shove the hair out of his eyes again and shrugged.

“Another skill of yours, I take it?”

Hawke beamed. “Not really. But I used to help mother give Carver and Bethany cuts. I know how to keep it from being a chopped mess?”

“Alright.”

Fenris’ last ‘ _hair cut_ ’ was hardly legitimate anyway. Danarius kept his hair long—for the aesthetics of it. The first thing he’d done upon his arrival to Kirkwall was hastily chop the bun gathered on the back of his head off. The rest of his hair fluttered down at odd angles but at least he no longer possessed that reminder.

But it was getting longer again, brushing at his chin and in his eyes more than usual.

“Just don’t cut it like Carver’s.” he warned as Hawke brought him over to a basin to was his hair in.

Hawke laughed and nodded.

“No way. He picks that himself. I was just going to get it off your neck. Seems like it annoys you.”

Fenris hadn’t noticed before but, now that it was pointed out, he felt himself scratching at the spot the hair fell onto his neck. He shrugged again.

“I suppose so.” he replied before dunking his hair into the basin.

Once he’d washed and wrung his hair, Hawke had Fenris sit on a stool in the foyer and set to work. They titled his head forward and started clipping hair from the back first. Fenris lulled into calm quiet and listened to the snipping of the scissors and the sound of Hawke’s mabari snoring nearby.

Being a slave was often comparable to being a doll. He’d never had any say on what he looked like. This was decided, against any preference he could have had, for him. Relearning how to care how he looked at all was still a work in progress.

“Any idea how you want the front to fall?” Hawke asked, shaking him from his thoughts.

Fenris bobbed his shoulders slightly and snips of hair piled there fell to the floor.

Hawke chuckled faintly and moved around in front of him, motioning for Fenris to raise his chin. Their hands ghosted over the wet hair in his face for a moment before they simply sighed.

“What?”

“Such a handsome face to keep hidden like this.” Hawke quipped, one hand adjusting the tilt of his chin slightly, “It’s a shame.”

Fenris laughed, something in his chest swelling, and tried not to move too much as he replied.

“Perhaps I want to choose who can see it.”

Hawke grinned crookedly at him and snipped a few inches off one side of his bangs—following the same swoop it’d fallen in when Fenris first cut it himself. Hawke kept their eyes on their work, tongue stuck between their teeth in concentration, and smiled faintly. They caught his gaze and stilled their hands briefly.

“See?” they tutted. “It’s a tease.”

“Maybe not for long.”

Hawke’s eyebrows shot up but they just smiled and went back to carefully trimming his hair.

Fenris liked this; flirting and teasing and toying. But he, for one, could not sustain on it forever. He’d have to act soon enough.

“There, done!”

Fenris blinked, not realizing he’d drifted until Hawke spoke. As they went about dusting the hair off his shoulders he reached over and pulled the mirror they’d gotten closer.

It looked like a more purposeful version of what he’d done—no stray or uneven lengths. He smiled.

“This is good, thank you Hawke.” he paused, then looked at them with an almost wicked grin, “I’ll think of a way to repay you.”

Hawke laughed, cheeks slightly red, and waved him off. “No need, Fenris.” they insisted, “Just don’t want a raider to catch you off guard tomorrow because you’ve got hair in your eyes.”

Fenris smiled a little less deviously. “Well,” he said, “then perhaps I owe you even more for that.”

Hawke laughed and waved him off again, cheeks more flushed now, and Fenris finally relented. They said their goodbyes and he made his way back across Hightown—hair still damp.

He’d figure out a way to thank them soon; perhaps doubly. It was the least he could do.


End file.
